The Man With No Face
by A Bullfrog's Worst Nightmare
Summary: He came for her on a dark and rainy night. He came for them, the faceless man.


**-Written for the Woman's tennis event for the Hogwarts Games.**

_The Man With No Face_

She sat there alone, her slender hand resting against the dusty wooden windowsill and she rested her pale face on the icy glass. It was dark outside and thick drops of rain poured from the sky. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there.

He was always there.

Her eyes were trained on the path that led away from her house. It was just an ordinary muddy path that disappeared into a thick patch of trees. He would be standing there soon. Watching her.

Her eyelids began to feel heavy and slowly began to droop shut. Yet, all thoughts of sleep were forgotten when a sudden crash of thunder rumbled and shook the house. She raised her head and forced her tired eyes to look out the window.

She suddenly wished she hadn't.

He came for her. There he stood in the middle of the path just as she had predicted. He stood there looking up at her window and she felt shivers crawl down her spine. Her body was shaking and it felt as though her heart was about to push itself through her chest cavity, it was beating so hard.

He came.

The man was tall, too tall to be a normal human. His long arms hung limply at his side. The figure was an almost completely black shadow except for his head. His faceless hairless head shone brightly through the dark, despite the fact there was nothing out there to illuminate it.

She shut her eyes tightly, hoping it was just her mind playing yet another cruel trick on her. He didn't move, no matter how many times she blinked her eyelids.

Her breaths were coming out ragged as she panicked. Her body felt numb and weak. It felt as though she was unable to pull away from the window, like she was stuck there. He wanted her to look at him.

Then he was gone. The tall dark figure was no longer standing in the middle of the muddy path. He couldn't have left. He would never leave without getting what he wanted. Which only meant one thing to Narcissa.

He was inside her house.

She finally backed away from the window, hoping it wasn't true. Tears slid down her pale frantic face and dripped onto her clothes.

She was going to die.

There was a bang that came from outside her door, causing her to whine in fear. Something was knocking at her bedroom door. Narcissa hunched over waiting for the door to just bust open.

It didn't, the hinges of the door creaked as it slowly swung open. A tall dark figure stood in the doorway and she screamed.

The figure muttered and incantation and the room lit up.

"Mother?" the figure in the doorway said.

"He's coming for me," she responded, gasping for air. She lifted a finger and pointed at the window. "He's coming for me, Draco."

Draco walked over to the window that his distraught mother was pointing at, lit wand held tightly in hand. The gardens were empty and it was hard to see anything anyway with how dark it was.

"There's no one out there," Draco said, trying to calm his mother down.

"That's because he's in the house!"

Draco turned to look at his mother, who was sitting on the floor rolled up in a ball. Her blonde hair was in tangles and she sobbed into her arms. He gently smoothed her hair back in an attempt to comfort her. She peered up at her only son with her tear filled eyes.

"He's right behind you," she said in a voice no louder than a soft whisper.

Draco looked over his right shoulder at the empty doorway.

"No one is in the house, mother."

He held out his hand to help her up. Narcissa gripped her son's hand tightly and managed to pull herself up.

"Just go to sleep," he said and he nudged his mother towards the bed.

She leaned back onto the pillows, tears still falling from her eyes. Draco pulled a blanket over her body and then began to back out of the room, taking one last look at the window that haunts his mother.

"You're fine," he said and left the room.

He walked down the hall towards his own room, feeling uneasy as well. It felt as if there was a slight pressure pushing against his back with each step he took down the hall. A sudden creak in the floorboards made him whirl around, his wand ready.

There was no one.

It must have been his own shoes. Not the faceless man who haunts his mother.

He continued back down the hallway, feeling even more paranoid. He pretends it isn't real, for the sake of his mother but he's seen it too.

The man with no face.


End file.
